


Regression

by NymeriaKing (DisappearingGirl)



Series: prompt fills [11]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Force Decay, Grief/Mourning, M/M, The Dark Side of the Force, The Force
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-22 02:50:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20866991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisappearingGirl/pseuds/NymeriaKing
Summary: "Why didn't you stop when I asked you to?" Hux asks, voice hoarse.Kylo smiles softly. "I was doing it for you. I wanted you to win. For good."Kylo strives to make himself a master of the Force. The Force makes itself a master of him.





	Regression

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my Twitter. Based on [this prompt](https://twitter.com/kylux_prompts/status/1179402310805524480) from Kylux Prompts on Twitter.

Good vs Evil. Life vs Death. Light vs Dark.

However far along the scale it might swing, the Force is about balance; it will always regress to the mean. It is never a peaceful regression, for the Force is not an idle or passive law. The Force has a will, and its will is the way.

Judge, jury, executioner...

Kylo should have known he was seeking the death penalty all along, but he never really saw it until Hux said something.

"When did you get all the way over there?" Hux asks. He sounds startled, sternness covering the fear. He's not looking at Kylo.

Kylo frowns at his back, watches him watch the closet doorway from their place in bed. "I'm not over there."

Hux whips his head around, eyes wide, and looks him up and down briefly. "How are you doing that?"

He shakes his head, looking over Hux's shoulder at the closet.

Hux follows his gaze. "You were right there just a second ago. I saw you."

"I'm right here," he says. He doesn't specify where 'here' is, nor does he mention the slowly dissipating aura by the closet. "I was probably just projecting. I'm thinking too hard about...stuff."

"Projecting," Hux repeats quietly, hesitantly. "Does that mean you're getting stronger?"

He shrugs. "More in-tune, I guess. More connected."

His lover relaxes a fraction, letting a hand drift over to rest on his chest. "Good. But keep a lid on it; it's unsettling."

"I will."

He doesn't.

Kylo keeps reaching out to the Force, stretching himself further in more directions, more dimensions than he can comprehend. He gets lost sometimes, has difficulty keeping himself whole, but he always puts himself back together—but it's not always in the right order.

One particularly adventurous meditation session leaves him scattered, rearranged, barely breathing. Hux is the one who bears the burden of finding him, shouting him into the medbay, screaming him better.

It's a weeks-long stay, and he promises Hux he won't push himself again.

He half-promises the same thing to himself. Worse than the discomfort of his body being torn and twisted was the treatment. There wasn't much they could do but pump him full of drugs that forced his cells to slow their sloppy regeneration. The death-like feeling never went away.

He continues his growth, his practice, his mastery of the Force. He teaches himself to work with it, alongside, and allows it control him more. This way, he thinks, it can't hurt him. And it doesn't, he finds.

The Force carries him, makes him better, makes him more than human.

He puts as much of himself into it as he can, and out it comes speed, strength, resilience. It's tiring in every way imaginable, but he reasons that growth does not come without an exchange of energy.

When he sleeps all he can, runs of out excess, the energy is taken forcibly.

"You're doing it again," Hux whispers late one night—early in the morning. He huddles up close to Kylo, cold even under the heavy covers of their bed. "Part of you is over there, floating in that corner."

That piece has been detached for weeks. He hasn't been able to reach it.

Kylo wraps both his arms around him, pulling him closer. "I know."

"And you're shaking."

"I know."

Hux doesn't say anything more. He doesn't huff in exasperation or roll his eyes or elbow him in the ribs. He keeps it all in his thoughts.

'What's happening?'

"I'm decaying."

Kylo pushes through it for another year, stubbornly disobeying Hux's protests/requests/orders/pleas.

He gets stronger, stranger, colder, sicker. He develops fissures, gaping wounds, open spiritual sores.

Perhaps, for all the lives he took, the Force is taking them back.

"I can't keep doing this anymore," he finally whispers in the dead of night. He can't sleep when the lights beaming through the universe are so bright and tear right through him. He can't bear the headaches, the bones turning to ash, the phantom touches all over his skin.

"I've been telling you that all this time," Hux whispers back.

"No." Kylo buries his face in his chest, breathes in. "You've been telling me I can't keep using the Force anymore. That's not what I'm saying."

"What are you saying, then?"

"I can't keep living. It won't let me."

"Don't say that," Hux hisses, ever defiant. "Don't. Don't."

Kylo has to say it. He sighs into his chest, kisses it. "It's going to happen. I don't want to do it out here. I want to be at home. I want to be with my family."

Hux knows what he means. He is the family.

Neither of them say anything for the rest of the night. Silently, Hux sends an order to the bridge for the ship to be redirected. Then he holds onto Kylo, and Kylo holds onto him. They don't sleep; they don't have the time for it.

On Arkanis, not far down the coast from Scaparus Port, is the Keep. Hux walks him into the tall mausoleum, sea salt crunching under their feet, and tells him they'll be alone in here. Kylo can clearly see that they are not alone, but makes no mention of the two women at his side.

They take the long, steep staircase to the top. Kylo is slow in his weakened state, but Hux is in no rush. When they reach the peak, a sob forces its way out of Hux. Only one—the first Kylo has ever heard.

He sniffs, lip trembling. "I don't know what I'm going to do after this."

That's Kylo's biggest regret. He remembers what Luke taught him about attachments: people are meant to pass through our lives, not to be our lives.

All he can think to say is, "I'm sorry." There's an open window facing the sea, and he goes to sit on its sill, pulling Hux along.

They sit together, hand in hand, and watch each other. Hux cries, Kylo can't. An hour passes. They've never been so peaceful together.

"Why didn't you stop when I asked you to?" Hux asks, voice hoarse.

Kylo smiles softly. "I was doing it for you. I wanted you to win. For good."

"It's not worth it."

Kylo can feel the stretch, the tearing and scattering. "I realize that now."

"I love you more than anything," Hux chokes out through the tears, breath shaking.

Kylo wishes he could cry. Instead, his body goes numb with the strain. "I realize that now."

Pained, Hux buries his face in his hands. Kylo can hear what he's thinking without even trying.

'Did I say it enough? Did I show it enough?'

He opens his mouth to answer that, yes, he said it plenty, and yes, he showed it every day. But he doesn't have a mouth anymore.

When Hux lifts his head from his hands, Kylo has vanished. He looks around the tiny room frantically, only to see no sign of his lover.

It's done, then. Just like that.

He has no more family.

It's not worth it, he thinks again. He looks out the window.

The green sea rolls, and the grey grass sways. It's a long way down.

He feels a hand on his shoulder. It's softer, lighter than Kylo's. More familiar, older.

"Stay," she says. "You are home. Stay."

His final command is for the ship to leave port without him. He stays.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [Twitter](https://twitter.com/nymeriaking).


End file.
